Chapter 8
Objectively speaking, the Second Prince of the Empire, Baltazar, was quite an accomplished man.
Born with a handsome face, he was the only son between the Emperor and the current Empress. His maternal lineage, the House of Marquess Rudes, boasted immense wealth and influence.
The Empress adored her son so dearly she wouldn’t be hurt even if he were in her eye, and the Emperor, unable to go against her, allowed Baltazar to grow up getting almost everything he wanted.
Still, there was one reason he wasn’t happy.
The First Prince, Karsiel.
He was Baltazar’s half-brother and the only son of the late first Empress.
It was only natural for Baltazar to bear a grudge against Karsiel. The latter surpassed him in every way, even if only slightly.
Slightly more striking appearance, slightly taller height, slightly sharper mind, slightly more agile body, and even a slightly more charming personality.
As they grew older, the gap between them became more apparent. But what caused public opinion to split decisively was the Empress.
Whenever she, who considered Karsiel an eyesore, sent him to the battlefield, he would return victorious — each time, a war hero. That alone elevated Karsiel to the status of a national hero.
Unsurprisingly, many began to suggest that this outstanding First Prince should be named heir to the throne, especially considering the Emperor’s poor health.
The Empress and Baltazar’s faction fought back fiercely each time, pushing for Baltazar as heir instead. But that only made the public compare Karsiel and Baltazar even more.
Karsiel excelled in most areas, and this twisted Baltazar’s personality further. He often released his frustration on those around him.
Today, his chosen outlet was me.
“You’ve been holed up at home too long. Can’t even tell heaven from earth anymore, huh? How dare you try to lecture me?”
Baltazar growled.
“As I’ve mentioned before, Lady Iris hasn’t received proper etiquette training.”
Bartol, standing behind him, jumped at the chance to speak.
“It would be an honor if His Highness would offer her his guidance.”
“Oh, really?”
A sly grin spread across Baltazar’s face. He suddenly reached out, grabbed my arm, and yanked me to his side.
“But what a shame. I don’t have time to give private lessons to a cheeky lady.”
He looked around briefly, then shoved me aside.
“Damon, she’s yours. You teach her.”
“Ah, Your Highness,” Damon sighed.
Standing opposite Baltazar, Damon clucked his tongue while placing both hands on my shoulders.
“A beauty is welcome, but untamed girls aren’t my type.”
Without giving me a moment to steady myself, he shoved me hard to the right.
“Your turn, Dewey.”
“Eh? Why me? I don’t want to either.”
As I stumbled, passed from one man to another, the young men around me burst into laughter.
Some things never change.
This was their favorite game — a sort of cruel hunting sport.
I had experienced it in my first life and knew how it worked.
Their targets were always the same: people who were an eyesore but lacked a powerful protector nearby.
A certain viscount’s third son who joined the Imperial Knights at a young age, and a baron’s plain-looking daughter who rejected Damon — they, too, became prey at a banquet.
This crude game worked surprisingly well in damaging reputations. It continued until Baltazar found his next target.
“My lady, don’t lean on me like that. I thought you were well-mannered?”
A lanky young man giggled as he pushed me back toward Baltazar. Baltazar pretended to grab a wine glass and dodged.
On the other side, Damon stuck out a foot to trip me but caught my waist just before I could fall.
Laughter erupted again.
“Apologize now, Iris.”
Bartol whispered.
“His Highness will stop if I ask him.”
What a delusional fool.
In my first life, I believed that too — but the harassment only got worse.
Glancing around the banquet hall, I saw that most people either hadn’t noticed us tucked away in a corner or deliberately looked away.
What was I supposed to do when facing a stronger enemy?
I recalled the hand-to-hand techniques Rician from the Hunting Guild had taught me.
If your opponent is off guard, you’ll always have one chance, he said.
Good. This was a banquet hall. Even if a commotion broke out, I just had to escape.
I waited for Damon to place his hands on my shoulders again.
“Your Highness, are you avoiding her because you think Lady Iris is ugly—huh?”
As soon as he gripped me again, I twisted my body under Damon’s arm.
Seizing the moment when his back was turned, I threw my full weight into pushing him from behind.
“Ugh?”
Caught off guard, Damon couldn’t control his limbs. Combined with his own pushing force and mine, he was launched forward.
Right into Baltazar.
Smack—Crash.
Unable to stop himself, Damon instinctively grabbed onto Baltazar, and the wine glass in Baltazar’s hand struck Damon’s head before shattering on the ground.
“What the hell…!”
I stepped back, looking for a way out.
But before I could even move—
Something completely unplanned and shocking happened.
As Baltazar whipped his head around in anger and Damon tried to steady himself using Baltazar’s shoulder, their lips collided.
“Mm?!”
“Gasp!”
“What the—!”
Baltazar and Damon were both horrified. The lanky man and Bartol shrieked.
All eyes in the banquet hall turned toward us.
A suffocating silence followed. Even the musicians stopped playing. No one moved except their darting eyes.
Until Baltazar roared.
“How dare you touch me, you bastard!”
“I—I committed a grave sin!”
Damon tried to kneel in apology, but Baltazar’s punch was faster. Thwack! Damon’s body flew into a wall.
“Y-Your Highness, please calm down—”
“Out of my way! What kind of man touches another man!”
Bartol and the lanky man tried to restrain him, but Baltazar shoved them aside violently. Panting, he searched for a new target — and his gaze met mine.
“Iris Apellemeon.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
I answered without avoiding his gaze.
Everyone was watching. No matter how much power he had, if Baltazar went further, he couldn’t avoid the Emperor’s wrath. I was, after all, the only direct heir of House Apellemeon.
“You dare attack me?”
“Viscount Gideon lunged at Your Highness and kissed you. You were the one who returned it.”
“Shut up! I never—how could I with a filthy—”
“There are too many witnesses to deny it. And love between men isn’t shameful. In the Southern provinces, it’s quite common—”
“I said enough of that filth!”
I had meant to draw attention, but Baltazar turned red to the roots of his hair and screamed.
As expected.
Though the Empire was fairly open about same-sex relationships, the Marquessate of Rudes — his maternal family — was deeply conservative. Baltazar had been raised with those values.
I hadn’t intended it, but nothing disgusted Baltazar more than the idea of kissing another man.
“You dared humiliate a prince. Don’t think I’ll let you go just because people are watching.”
He wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t bright, but he had sharp instincts.
His bulging eyes gleamed with madness.
That’s when I realized — he no longer cared about the Emperor’s wrath.
“Your Highness, let’s discuss this another time—”
“Keep talking and you’ll lose your head.”
I stepped back, looking for an escape, but Baltazar was moving too quickly.
Before I knew it, he was right in front of me, reaching for my neck.
“You’ll not leave here with your limbs intact—”
“…?”
I clenched my eyes, bracing for pain — but only heard a thud. Nothing happened.
“What are you doing?!”
I opened my eyes and saw Baltazar shouting angrily — not at me, but at someone behind me.
A hand had grabbed his outstretched wrist.
“So disgraceful, Baltazar.”
A low but clear voice rang out from behind me.
“Have you no regard for the dignity of the royal family?”
The voice’s owner stepped forward, still holding Baltazar’s wrist.
A white uniform sleeve appeared before Baltazar’s beet-red face.
Then I turned to see him—and my eyes widened.
Snow-white uniform. Golden epaulets.
Taller than Baltazar or Damon.
Hair like morning sunlight, features like a god’s sculpture, icy blue eyes.
And an aura of chilling hostility that couldn’t be concealed.
Karsiel Parnassus.
The First Prince of the Empire.
“Salutations to His Highness, the First Prince!”
“Salutations to His Highness!”
Those nearby quickly bowed, but Karsiel only glared at Baltazar.
“Step aside, Brother. That woman attacked me. She insulted the royal family. She must be punished now!”
“What nonsense. You had five underlings and still couldn’t handle one woman?”
Karsiel calmly retorted as Baltazar gritted his teeth.
“In that case, aren’t you the one who’s shamed the royal family?”
